Roses and Revolutionaries
by seasonschange-butpeopledont
Summary: When an Immortal calling himself The Count threatens to overthrow the Volturi, a new recruit finds herself caught up in a revolution that will pit brother against sister, coven against coven, and vampire against creator.
1. Part One

A vase of roses sat in the center of the throne room; the note attached read: _I'll be seeing you soon, I expect._ It was left unsigned, but it was no mystery to Aro who had sent them. _The Count._

Aro felt uneasy about the threat. The intention behind it was so clear that he began preparing a task force to be sent to Chicago immediately. The Count was watching them. He was in the walls, he was in the air, he was in the blood that stained their lips as they fed from yet another group of unsuspecting tourists. He was taking note of their collective debt of sins, watching and waiting for them to slip so he could collapse their world around them.

Aro was always reluctant to send the twins out on missions because they were the Volturi's main form of offensive power, but they were best suited to neutralize threats efficiently and immediately. They were his crown jewels; their mere presence was enough to silence most outcries they had received in the past. _This felt different_ , Aro admitted to himself.

From the very beginning, he had a feeling about The Count that he couldn't quite place his finger on. The Count wasn't _technically_ breaking any of the Volturi's laws. Usually, when newborn armies were created, their leaders were indiscrete, often choosing high-risk victims and drawing attention to themselves. If they managed to keep themselves hidden, the leaders almost always failed to properly care for and train their newborns, giving the Volturi more than enough reason to intervene. The Count _wasn't_. They wouldn't have even been aware of the threat had Bastian, their latest recruit and Jane's mate, whom they'd added to their collection while in Romania, not informed them of his chance encounter with The Count in the early days of his creation. Even then, he'd only spoken to Bastian about the _corruption_ of the Volturi. Nothing that the Volturi could use against him. He was frighteningly brilliant, and he was skilled at navigating around their laws. It was a combination that did not bode well with Aro or Caius.

He would send the twins in, with the hope of intimidating The Count enough to deter him from an attack. Aro decided that he would send Felix and Demetri as well; the guard's muscle and its best tracker. They were his all-star team, and it was the best he could do to set his mind at ease. If anyone could find a reason to eliminate The Count, it was those four.

* * *

The Count knew that the Volturi were watching him. He was expecting this. How could he not? He must have turned nearly fifteen humans this month, and perhaps forty in all. The humans he bit were mostly homeless people he found on the street or prostitutes that had propositioned him. One of the humans had even been a cop who heard the screams of one of his victims and started asking questions. The Count did not care. Discretion was not his mission. _Let the Volturi see their reckoning take shape right before their eyes. Let them wonder what we have in store for them._ The Count's advantage, he knew, was that the Volturi's approval among those which they governed was at an all-time low; they were simply too weak to try and impose their will upon him without casting further doubt on their brand of justice. No one trusted them anymore, but a select few had trusted him.

The Count had been created centuries ago, raised by his creators for the sole purpose of killing the Volturi. From the day of his rebirth, he had been trained that his only purpose was to bring the reign of the Volturi to a screeching, bloody, _deadly_ halt.

The air was biting as The Count stalked towards the factory in Chicago which housed the makings of what he hoped would become the finest army any vampire had seen for centuries. To unseat the Volturi, they would _have_ to be.

In his three hundred years on earth, he had gathered knowledge on the Volturi from every dark corner of the Earth. He knew every dirty little secret they had. If they had a weak link, The Count knew about it.

It was no secret that the Volturi's real power came from the guard; more specifically, it came from the witch twins, Alec and Jane. Jane, with her ability to give the illusion of the most excruciating pain imaginable, and her twin brother Alec. He was her opposite in every way possible, save for their shared sadistic tendencies, including his gift of sensory deprivation, which left one utterly alone in the darkness of their mind, trapped within their own body to the point that a person under his influence wouldn't even feel the flames when the guard decided to burn them. Without them, Aro, Caius, and Marcus were _nothing_. No member of the guard could stand against his army if Jane and Alec were to turn against the Volturi. Nor was it a secret that Jane was the one so entirely devoted to Aro, positively desperate for his approval and acceptance, while her brother was that fiercely loyal only to his sister. Which left Jane. Jane, whom everyone feared. Jane, the poster child of the guard. Jane, Aro's spoiled little princess. She was the one who would bring about the downfall of them all. The solution was so glaringly simple. It was so moronic, it hurt. It was the only thing more powerful than Jane herself.

Credit where credit is due, an honorable mention went to Chelsea, who was so profoundly influential with her ability to manipulate relationships that she was allowed to keep her mate, Afton, around for so many years despite his essential uselessness to the guard. Technically speaking, the Volturi didn't allow members of the guard to have mates. The bond between mates could be the only thing stronger than fear of the wrath of the Volturi, and for the more valuable members of his coven, it was a chance Aro wasn't willing to take. He'd killed his own sister when he believed Marcus would leave him, and he'd do the same to anyone he thought would get in the way of the Volturi's power. The loss of Chelsea would do nothing to hinder the Volturi guard, unlike the loss of Alec or Jane. _But it would certainly ruin Aro's day_ , The Count knew, _and she would certainly make one hell of an ally if he was given the opportunity._


	2. Part Two

Even as a human Alec could remember his nocturnal tendencies. He remembered creeping out of the simple home he shared with his mother, father, and sister, and making his way through the small village he grew up in. He fucking _hated_ that village, but things always seemed better when he was sitting in the fields alone at night. It was easy to forget how absolutely miserable he was during the daytime. Not even the venom that had scorched his veins or the flames that had licked his body as he and his sister were burned at the stake as witches could take away his sense of wonder as he stared up into darkness. Jane had never once blamed herself for not fitting in with the other children in the village; she blamed everyone else. Alec had always admired that about his sister, envied it even. Jane was so unapologetically herself.

Unfortunately for him, times had changed since he sat in the fields outside of his village, and with the endless waves of technology had come an invention that struck a particular nerve inside of him: streetlamps. With his vampirism, he had the gift of near perfect night vision, and while he understood that the tall metal poles that lined the streets provided the humans with protection from things like him, he still found himself annoyed at their hazy glow that obscured his view of the night sky as he walked through the nearly empty streets of Chicago.

Aro had sent them there on an assignment, hoping to gather intelligence on the ever-growing rumors of rebellion against the Volturi and their guard. Thus far, the only lead they possessed had brought them to a vaguely idealistic newborn calling himself The Count. He was manic, but not particularly influential, and too naïve to have any real insight to the Volturi's way of governing. He posed no real threat, as far as the guard was concerned, to the Volturi's reign of power. _Just another anarchist_ , Alec thought, a shot of annoyance injecting itself into his veins. After their skirmish with the Cullen's, Aro had been urging them to use more discretion when dealing with threats. They had all seen how many covens were prepared to rise up against them last time. They were walking on eggshells until they could regain the trust they had lost.

As he passed by each city block, he found himself deeper and deeper into what must have been considered the undesirable side of town by the humans that inhabited it.

Alec became increasingly aware of the buildings that surrounded him, and he began playing a guessing game, in which he tried to determine if the building was used to make and/or sell drugs, or if it was a home to what his mother and father had called _women of the night_. As if they had any clue what creatures really lurked in the night.

Jane and himself had always known themselves to be slightly sadistic. As children, their thoughts had been simple. Those that wronged them deserved the pain that they got. As they grew older and the taunts of the villages grew more threatening by the day, they found themselves enjoying the pain their seemingly psychic abilities were causing others. Despite all of this, Alec's mother had tried to instill in him the importance of treating women with respect, and it was for this reason that Alec was particularly jarred when he heard the muffled screams of a woman coming from the next street over, when he knew that he should have been the only monster out that night, and he found himself racing toward the direction of the sound, catching the scent of blood in the air as he approached the girl and her attackers. The men had to be twice her age, stumbling drunkenly as they pinned her to the wall. Alec made quick work of pulling the men off of her, letting her body fall to the ground as he tore at their throats. With a satisfied smirk, he tossed their mutilated corpses into the dumpster before turning his attention back to the girl. He _had_ been hoping he would find someone to take his frustrations out on tonight. The rescue mission was a bit too cliché for his style. He frowned when he was that her crumpled body lay behind a dumpster.

From what he could see, the body was that of a female, in her teens, or perhaps her early twenties, and she was still beautiful despite the bruises and blood that covered her face. _Not that it matters_ , he reminded himself, _she'll probably be dead in a few minutes_. She wore a waitress' uniform that looked to be straight out of the 1950's as if a time machine had dropped her off on its way out of town. Her purse was a few feet away from her, its contents spilled onto the grimy street. _Oh, and there's the knife wound in her stomach_ , Alec added as an afterthought. It was clear that the girl had been mugged, but there was something about the bruises on her exposed thighs and the popped buttons that lay at her chest that made him believe something more had happened here. An ember of pity found its way into his conscious. While murder had lost its effect on him in the afterlife, the idea of a woman being touched in _that way_ without her consent still made him feel sick. _She looked so young_ , he thought frowning to himself.

He felt compelled to do something for the poor girl, just lying in an alleyway behind a dumpster, _probably_ bleeding to death. She was still alive, he had noted from the faint heartbeat he could hear in her chest. Glancing around to make sure that no one could invade the privacy offered by the alleyway, Alec made a grab for the empty wallet that lay on the ground. In it, he found a punch card for a free smoothie and her driver's license, but it had been emptied of all funds. The card told him that her name was Austen Tate and that she was even younger than he had originally believed her to be- only sixteen, in fact, and that she was an organ donor. She couldn't have had her license for more than six months. The girl was pretty enough, according to her license photo, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the tragically beautiful face of the girl that lay on the ground before him.

"Is anyone going to miss you, Austen?" Alec wondered, taking a seat beside her. The girl, clearly unconscious, gave no response. "Probably." He imagined that she was still a high school student, so she must have a mother and father somewhere or _something_. He pictured them waiting for her to come home tonight, _or maybe they weren't_. They would probably call the police and file a missing person's report in the morning, _or they wouldn't_. They would picture all of the horrible things that could have happened to her, but she and Alec would be the only ones capable of confirming that, indeed, _they had_.

He watched her warily, avoiding looking at her face. Instead, he focused on the wounds on her body, which no longer spilled blood, except the spot behind her ear, where it _poured_. As if someone had slammed her against the brick wall, _repeatedly_. If she were taken to the hospital right now, she would probably live. She would go on with her life, shaken, but alive. _Traumatized_ , but alive. _Or she could have brain damage._

 _Or_ she could die right here in this alley, tonight. Someone would come across her body while they took out the trash in the morning, or maybe she would be discovered by the driver of a garbage truck.

 _Or_ , Alec reminded himself, _I could save her._ He could admit to himself that he felt compelled to help the girl, though he didn't quite understand why he cared. In theory, the girl should mean nothing to him, just another speck in the universe that would wither and die before he could even blink an eye. Still, he found himself wondering what had brought the girl to this specific alleyway on this particular night. Whether it was his curiosity or because she was tragically beautiful in ways that he had only read about in books or a compulsive need to exercise power over humanity that drove him, he sank his teeth into her wrist, regardless. Then her neck, her forearm, her shoulder… When he was sure that the venom would reach her heart before it stopped altogether, he relaxed a bit. It was just minutes before the girl let out another nails-on-a-chalkboard scream. _So it's working_ , Alec noted before he took away her senses. He couldn't risk having her screaming and convulsing in the streets. If he ignored the blood, she looked like she was just asleep. He removed his jacket and draped it across her midsection. Now they were just two teenagers, asleep in an alley in the wrong part of town. _Perfectly normal_. Maybe people would think they were runaways. He pulled the girl's body closer to him so that her head rested on his lap. Her hair was matted with blood, but he stroked it nevertheless, remembering how Jane, as a child, had been comforted when he did this. He began to wonder if Austen Tate had a big brother as well, and if he would miss her as much as Alec would miss Jane.

If only his dear sister Jane could see him now; sitting on the filthy streets of Chicago, surrounded by a pool of blood that belonged to the stranger he found behind a dumpster, holding her in his arms as he watched her transform into a member of the undead.

 _She probably thinks she_ _ **is**_ _dead_ , Alec mused. Why the _fuck_ was he holding her again? He didn't know, but it certainly wasn't the most irrational part of his evening.

* * *

It was not until daybreak when the sun peaked out from the horizon that Alec realized it would be best to move the girl's limp body. Soon the residents of the neighborhood would make their way out of their homes and discover an unfamiliar boy with red eyes and sparkling skin and an unconscious girl covered in blood _and dead bodies in the trash_ ; it was a spectacle Alec decided he could live without. Rising from the ground and dusting off his dark pants, he narrowly avoided stepping in the pool of congealed blood that had mingled with the dirt and grime of the street. The murky liquid was as appealing to him now as a molded slice of bread would be to a human.

 _Her blood did not appeal to me last night either_ , Alec remembered with a deep-set scowl. He was a _hunter_ , not a scavenger.

The vampire buttoned up the coat she wore to hide the red stains that covered her dress and did his best to wipe the crimson liquid from her face. He tossed her over his shoulder before speeding away from the scene of the crime.

He ran until he reached the broken down apartment he and the rest of the guard had been using to stakeout The Count's factory. He had spent much of the night dreading this moment when he would have to explain himself and take responsibility for his actions. Jane would be furious, and the girl would be lucky if Felix did not decapitate her on the spot.

Pushing open the heavy door, Alec found himself in Jane and Felix's crossfire as they argued vehemently over what Alec assumed was a new development with The Count. He almost thought he would be able to sneak past them and deposit the girl's body in a far corner of the apartment before his eyes met with Demetri's.

"Where have you been, brother?" Jane inquired, turning to glower at him. It was impossible to tell whether her rage was a result of her discussion with Felix or her brother's disappearing act.

"Just out for a stroll, sister," Alec deflected as if no one had noticed the body slung over his shoulder. His companions exchanged a look that held equal parts annoyance and amusement.

"You brought home a pet," Felix smirked, gesturing to Austen.

"It seems I have," Alec agreed.

"Is she one of The Count's? Aro told us we were to kill any of his-"

"Give it a rest, Jane," Demetri dismissed, "Alec finally turned a human. We've all done it."

"How could you be so stupid, brother? Aro made his instructions very clear. We were to do reconnaissance on The Count and return home. He said nothing about creating yourself a newborn girlfriend, Alec!"

"I just... I felt like I was supposed to, Jane," Alec told her, "I can't explain it."


	3. Part Three

In general, Austen Tate believed that she had led a good life. She had never intentionally wronged anyone, she was generally kind to strangers, She didn't lie to her parents, and she took relatively good care of her younger siblings. She was _at least_ as morally upright as the rest of the population, even if she wasn't particularly religious. For this reason, she was a bit shocked when she found herself in hell. Or what she believed was hell, anyway. The last thing she could remember was the gravel of the alleyway, and the way a particularly sharp rock was jabbing her in the shoulder when she was trying to die _in peace_. The idea that she was dying was hard enough to take, the pain was unbearable, and just before she mercifully lost consciousness, she could distinctly remember wishing that someone would move that godforsaken rock out from underneath her.

But a rock stabbing her in the shoulder felt like the better option now. She felt paralyzed, and she assumed this was due to the fact that she was apparently trapped inside of her lifeless corpse. It seemed to her that hell was a state of mind rather than a physical place. She burned, and she had no way of understanding how long this went on. Had she been dead for days? Years? All the while, she was screaming into the void with a total inability to move. If she could, she was sure that she would be trying to rip the burning flesh from your body. Every nerve ending in her body screamed in agony, a pain so intense that, had she been able, she would have blacked out long ago. If she were on the deserving end of this, she could only imagine what the creeps from the alleyway had coming to them.

Her confusion began when she realized the fire was being extinguished, cell by cell until the pain was nearly gone. Her heart gave one final thump, and she was left alone in the dark.

It could have been hours or seconds later when she realized she could move again. The smell of dust hit her like a ton of bricks, and she dared to open her eyes. _How could she_ _ **not**_ _be dead? She had been in hell, hadn't she?_

What she found was a room that was entirely unfamiliar to her, from the cold gray stone of the walls to the ceilings that seemed to stretch on for miles. The bed she was lying on was so grand that Austen was sure that it had cost more than every piece of the cheap Ikea furniture in her family's boring old house. Everything in the room was exquisite, right down to the approximately ten million thread count sheets that looked as if they had never been slept on. However, the strangest part of what she was seeing had nothing to do with interior decoration and much more to do with the two sets of candy apple red eyes that were trained on her. She was sure that she had seen something similar as a part of a Halloween costume once, but never had they looked so _real_. She jumped when one of their owners, a girl, spoke: "We must take her to Aro immediately." _Who was Aro and what did he want with her?_

She briefly debated as to whether it would be best to scream now or to keep quiet. The pair didn't look like psychopaths, but after her previous experience with actual murderers and rapists, she decided that she was not the best judge of character. The memory of what had happened in the alleyway made her head feel as if it was about to explode- as if some barrier would break inside of her if she dared to focus on the thought for too long. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Where am I?" She inquired, finding that her throat burned when she spoke.

"Aro will answer any questions you may have, Miss Tate," The boy answered. Normally she would have been much more affected by being in the proximity of two people so impossibly beautiful that they looked as if they had been sculpted from marble, but the sense of impending doom prevented her from giving their good looks too much consideration. She didn't know where she was, or who they were, or why they knew her name, but the promise that she would soon find out was enough to keep her quiet as she followed the pair throughout the endless maze of stone walls. At some point, while she had been burning in hell, she assumed, someone had taken the liberty to change her into a simple black dress. She didn't like the idea of anyone touching her while she had been in such a vulnerable state, but she forced herself, once again, to push the thought aside. This was about survival, and if she made it out of this alive, she would find time to deal with what had happened.

The red eyed people that led her towards the enigma that was Aro had the same noses and the same sets of pouty lips, and she concluded that they must be related and that they must share some sort of disease that caused their eyes to take on their crimson tone. She decided that she would almost feel guilty for having been frightened of them if it weren't for the possibility that they might have kidnapped her and could still be holding her hostage in their lavish castle.

The pair ushered her into an elegant room that was roughly the size of a basketball court, where three golden thrones sat in the center, inhabited by three sickeningly pale men with eyes that glowed a brighter scarlet than even her escorts had.

"Young Austen, it brings me joy to see that you have finally awoken," The dark-haired man in the center announced as the others led her to stand in front of him. _This must be Aro_ , She thought.

"You have been given a rare opportunity, Austen. An opportunity, I believe, you are not yet aware of. Our kind has had many names, the cold ones, Libishomen, but I believe the one you will be most familiar with is Vampire, is that correct?" The man asked, the look of glee on his face making her feel acutely uncomfortable.

"You think you're vampires? As in bats, and fangs and coffins," She began, ".. And blood?"

"We don't _think_ , Austen. We _are_ ," Aro corrected, before making a sweeping gesture towards the boy who stood to her left, "And thanks to Alec, now you are too."

"Vampires aren't _real_ ," She protested, looking wildly around the room for someone's stoic gaze to falter, waiting for someone to burst into laughter. _Did they truly believe they were vampires?_

"Do not be so bold as to think you know all there is to know about the world, girl," The blond man that sat on a throne beside arrow snapped with a scowl, "Your tiny little human brain cannot even begin to comprehend-"

"Caius, do not be rude to our guest," Aro patronized, "It is perfectly normal to experience feelings of disbelief after such a catastrophic event has occurred."

She desperately wanted to flee. Her eyes darted toward each possible exit, finding men twice her size placed at each of them. _As if they knew_. _Or_ , She mused, _as if they've done this before_.

"Is this some kind of _cult_?" She asked, "Like a blood sacrifice kind of thing?"

"Jane will show you back to your room, Austen. We can discuss this is further detail tomorrow when you've had time to process what has happened. Jane will stay with you until then," Aro told her, looking positively jovial, "If she grows thirsty, Jane, do take her out to hunt."

With that, the girl at her right, whom Austen assumed was Jane, motioned for her to follow as Jane headed for the doors of the throne room. In the minutes that followed, a silence set in between the two of them, so thick it was almost palpable. Austen rounded a corner and found herself colliding with the girl, who had stopped suddenly.

"Your existence is my brother's fault, so I don't know why I am the one stuck babysitting you," She said, glowering at her, her finger pointing as Austen accusingly, "You'll be lucky if the Volturi don't make him kill you himself."

"I'm sorry," She apologized, though she didn't know what she meant by that. _For whatever I had done to make her so angry_ , Austen guessed.

"It's his own fault. He shouldn't have been so moronic as to think they would allow you to stay without a gift."

"A gift?" Austen asked, her curiosity piqued. Jane's eyes glinted with a hint of mirth.

"The Volturi aren't regular vampires, Austen. They're practically vampire royalty. His guard consists only of those which help to enforce them. You're in a castle with thirty-three of the most dangerous vampires on the planet, _and no one even told you_."

"What's your gift then?"

"Pain illusion," Jane answered, "Would you like to see?"

"I-I.."  
"I'll keep it minimal. It is just a demonstration, after all," Jane grinned. Austen nodded hesitantly, unable to contain her curiosity. If these people really were vampires, she was definitely interested in knowing what power they possessed.

"Here we go," Jane announced, focusing her attention on the girl stood before her. Austen let out a shuttering gasp as a steady pain ripped through her body, and she tried desperately to contain the scream bubbling in her throat. Before she knew what was happening, a blue glow had surrounded her body, and Jane increased the intensity of the pain only for a second before it disappeared completely, leaving only a dull ache behind.

"Did you feel that? After the shield went up?"

"Shield?"

"The blue light. That was a shield. If it was a mental shield, you didn't feel anything after it appeared. If it was a physical shield, you felt all of it. So which one is it?"

"I felt it," Austen winced, her voice still uncertain. She could still feel a ghost of the pain as she took a deep breath. _So vampires are real, and I'm one of them,_ Austen thought, _Super._

"Then you're a physical shield. You just might find a place here yet. You know, I didn't believe in all of this at first either," Jane said quietly, her glare relenting, "You must think we're monsters."

"I don't think that you're monsters. I didn't think you were anything, really, except _delusional_ ," She admitted. Jane pursed her lips, sending her a look that was somewhere between amusement and disdain, "But now I see that I was mistaken."

"I didn't feed for the first time until almost a week after we were changed. I thought it was all a joke. If you think that little pain illusion hurt, you won't be able to last half that long. "

* * *

As the night when on, she came closer and closer to giving in to her instincts. The inferno in her throat would soon reach a fever pitch, and it was obvious that Jane knew it from the looks of accomplishment she was sending her way. At this point, she simply didn't want to give her the satisfaction. She would have rather burst into flames on the spot than admit to her that she had been right, that Austen did need to drink the blood of a human, and that she needed to do it soon. Every sense she had was heightened, she could hear every heartbeat for miles, she could smell the iron liquid that ran through the veins of the citizens in the streets below. Her body was screaming at her to hunt, her nerves igniting in agony with each passing second.

* * *

The Cullen's weren't prepared to leave Forks. Bella and Renesmee were having a harder time absorbing the blow than the other members of the Olympic coven had. For Bella, it was the idea of finally leaving Charlie behind that was holding her back. Before he knew the truth of what went on in their little town, Bella hadn't been close to her father. Things changed after her daughter was born, and the two had grown to be very close. For Renesmee, it was the simple fact that she had never known anything else.

But Alice was ready. Before Bella came along, she had never stayed in one place this long, not since she was a human. She longed for a change of scenery, even if it meant leaving behind the memories she had in Forks. The decision to relocate had become a topic of discussion exactly one month earlier and along with it had come a new predicament for Alice Cullen.

For the past month, the same vision had come to her every time she closed her eyes. Every time she blinked, she saw the same girl. Alice could see that the girl was a vampire, and an uneasy feeling settled over her when she tried to determine whether or not she was a threat.

Edward, of course, was aware of the situation and had taken to spending his evenings huddled with her in quiet conversation on the roof as they tried to determine what the mystery girl had to do with their future.


	4. Part Four

"The time has come for us to discuss what has happened, Alec," Aro announced as the guardsman came to stand in front of him. Two days had passed since the girl had awoken. It was so quiet in the throne room that even their supernatural hearing picked up no sound but the vibration of Aro's voice.

"Of course, Master Aro," Alec nodded, bowing his head in deference.

"You have been a vampire for over a millennium, Alec. That is a very long time to spend alone, even for the immortal. I, of course, understand what compelled you to choose this particular… _human_ to join us in immortality," Aro began, "Do you?"

"I believe so," Alec admitted, gazing wearily towards Marcus. The knowing look he'd given Alec when they were presented with the girl said it all.

"You know she is your mate then, do you not, Alec?" Aro asked, his trademark grin appearing; it was a look that must have been unsettling to anyone less familiar with it than the twins.

"Yes," He replied. He'd suspected as much. Jane had used three different languages to berate him for his reckless, and among the words _stupid, idiotic,_ and _infuriating_ , the word "mate" had come up in every single variation. This wasn't news to anyone, except Austen, _maybe._

"And that is why you changed her?"

"Yes, Master Aro." _Yes, that is why I lugged an unconscious girl from Chicago to Volterra on a private jet with my sister yelling in my ear for eleven uninterrupted hours._

"Very well. The girl can present a physical shield, Caius. She's no Bella Cullen, but we can make use of her abilities," Aro reflected.

"We cannot allow these _children_ to set a precedent. Our official policy, as has been stated for centuries, is that members of the guard are not to form alliances outside of the Volturi, including those which are formed with mates," Caius spat. _Children?_ Alec found himself annoyed by the statement. He was twelve hundred years old, and he and his sister were probably the _only_ reason the Volturi were still in power.

Marcus watched his companions debate wearily, weighing the pros and cons of speaking out before uttering, "Hypocrites. All of you—hypocrites." Caius glared at him with a venom that could have killed him twice over, had he been able to die in the first place. _Oh, how he longed for such mercy_.

"What would you have us do, dear brother?" Aro asked, another wicked smile gracing his blood red lips.

"That rule is misleading, is it not? If the girl were not mated to a member of the guard—a member we cannot afford to lose, mind you, would we accept her?"

"This is not a matter of _usefulness_ , Marcus. If we don't follow our laws, how can we expect anyone else to?"

"Then I ask you to consider Bastian and Anton," Aro supplied. The fervor with which he was fighting Caius on the matter made Alec watch his actions more carefully than he usually did. _There was something more, something Aro wasn't saying._

"You know very well why we need Anton, _Aro_ ," Caius growled, a menacing look on his face. Aro seemed nonplussed by the implications of the statement, but carried on by stating, "And there is no arguing that Bastian's gift is nothing short of _astounding_. Shields are a dime a dozen in the scheme of things."

"And yet, we don't have one," Aro challenged him, "A day may come, sooner than you think, when we find ourselves to be the defenders, Caius, not the aggressors. When that time comes, I assure you that you will see the value in a shield— And the value in keeping the twins happy."

"I will not be threatened, Aro," Caius warned.

"You'll find no threat from me. Our enemies outside of these walls have done enough already."

"You know my thoughts on the matter, Aro," Caius glared. It was surrender, and Aro looked upon the white flag with satisfaction.

"She will stay with us, Alec," Aro said, turning his attention back to the boy in front of him, "You are dismissed. Go attend to your mate." The three watched in silence as their guardsman walked through the doors quickly, staring straight ahead and failing to notice the woman hiding in the corner, out of sight of the Volturi. Chelsea was watching them, again. The Volturi were so unprotected, so vulnerable. Even with Aro on red alert, it would be so easy to kill them all now, as they sat on their thrones. _Pathetic_.

"How long can we continue to cater to the wishes of the twins, Aro? They are supposed to be our followers. Your fear of losing them cannot continue to manipulate the ways in which we reinforce our laws," Caius reasoned, able to get to the root of the issue now that _the_ issue had left their presence.

"If we have Chelsea to manipulate their bond, to assure us that their loyalty to us is greater than to their mates, we have nothing to fear. Alec and Jane are our crowned jewels, and we cannot afford to lose them. If they want mates, they can have them. If they want power, they can have it. Prestige, an army, a throne. They can have anything they're so inclined to want, so long as they remain loyal. It is not secret that we have always had a double standard in the rules when it comes to the twins," Aro assured his comrades. He was referencing, of course, the hat trick they a pulled to allow Jane's mate to join the guard. It was their unspoken rule; Jane and Alec were not to be crossed, _ever._ They would do whatever it took to keep them on their side—the rules simply did not apply to the twins.

"The girl had better find a way to make herself useful. The other members of the guard will begin to question our leniency," Caius resigned. That was the end of the discussion, the twins got their way once again, as would always be the case for as long as Aro had any say in the matter.

* * *

Chelsea smirked to herself as she watched the leaders argue amongst themselves. _They ought to be worried_ , she agreed. She was playing them like a fiddle. _Jane and Bastian weren't even mates._ All their power, and yet they were still so easily duped by the girl's charms. Jane had believed it so easily that Chelsea almost felt sorry for the girl. A millennium _was_ a long time to be alone, and it had made the girl vulnerable, desperate even. Chelsea could only imagine what cracks she could cause in the Volturi's foundation with the true mate of one of the twins around. _She could_ _ **break**_ _them_.


End file.
